
Today's New York Times Dining In Dining Out section delivered a special look at delivery:
You can see them in any kind of weather and at almost any time of day. On bicycles that look sturdy enough to withstand a collision with a tank, the seats often wrapped in old plastic bags, they surge ahead through snow and rain, heat and, yes, especially gloom of night. No marble carving will ever exalt their heroic efforts, yet they are fixtures of almost any residential neighborhood in New York City. They deliver dinner, and sometimes lunch and breakfast, too. Yet within the reinforced bags dangling from their handlebars, the prepared dishes in their plastic, microwave-proof containers convey far more than a meal. They speak of the evolving stew of cultures that simmers throughout the five boroughs. They speak of the typical New Yorker's contradictory character: brash but overworked, stoic but requiring rewards, impatient but willing to wait. Most of all they embody what many New Yorkers regard as an inalienable right: to have meals of almost any conceivable sort delivered to their door, hot, fragrant and appetizing.
Now, it's quite true that as a New Yorker, I've learned the intricate craft of ordering delivery fare. It is a valuable urban art form. First you decide what type of food you have a yen for. Then there are specific "dish" considerations (ie. The Fried Dumplings are better at your usual Chinese spot, but the Chicken with Eggplant is far superior at the restaurant several blocks away. Where, oh where, to order from, when you want both?). And how about price? And how about speed of delivery and order accuracy?
All of these elements play an integral role in the ordering process. In fact, I faced a dilemma at the cross-section of these delivery essentials just the other night...
I was hungry. I didn't want the usual suspects: Chinese, Sushi or Italian. And, then I hit upon it: Indian. I remembered that a Curry Hill staple - Curry Leaf - had actually opened in my hood. I dug up the take-out/delivery menu and placed an order for Chicken Tikka Masalam, Raita and Poori. Dang, if that didn't sound like it would hit the spot. I was told that I would have my order within 25 minutes. I couldn't wait.
But wait I did. And I waited. And then I waited some more. In fact, it took a full hour and 15 minutes before I recieved my order - ice cold. Aargh!
I was peeved. Hungry and peeved. But, luckily, I do own a microwave and an oven. Popped the Poori in the oven and the rest I zapped in the microwave. Within moments I had a spicy, fragrant, hearty meal in front of me. Delish!
Suddenly the wait didn't bother me so much. The quality outwayed the inconvenience - Not to say that would always be the case, but it certainly was on that particular night. A lesson learned. The intricate delicacies involved in delivery underscored once again.
And, if you're looking for some tips on what foodstuffs to have delivered to your door and what to avoid, check out this guide by the NYT's esteemed Marian Burros. For us urban foodies, it just adds another layer to the complexities of delivery in our fair city.